The big Zeltron had had... interesting dreams.
This must be what it's like to sleep under the influence of my pheremones.
He'd slept by many beautiful women in his short life, and many of them had had restless sleep. That wasn't even a double entendre, they'd remarked on or shown evidence of very heated dreams while entangled in his sheets. Djak had always supposed that it was an aftereffect of his pheremones. Arousal running thickly through their systems, they'd usually woken up in excellent moods for morning sex.
Now...
Dressing in the acolyte's robes he'd been given, Djak shifted uncomfortably. His dreams hadn't even been all that sensuous. Sure, there had been some rather hot moments involving the Twi'lek sisters, and one or both of the Sith Purebloods, but for the most part his dreams had been of other, equally primal things. Violence, death, war and victory. He'd woken up once laughing madly from a dream of blood.
That... was an unexpected development. Djak had never considered himself a particularly violent man. He'd usually talked his way out of bad situations or else avoided them in the first place. Even in the secret place in his head where he starred in his own action movies, the focus had been more on ravaging heroines than ripping heads from his enemies. Djak was no pacifist, he knew very well that violence was a useful tool. The idea of actually picking up and using that tool... well, it was new. And different. And exciting.
He looked down at himself, sighed, and adjusted the robes again before picking up the lightsaber and clipping it to his belt. Dressed, and more or less in his right mind, he stepped out of the door and headed down the hall.
Turning the corner to the intersection between the hallways, Djak nearly collided with another acolyte. The Rattataki sidestepped at the last moment and narrowed eyes hidden under her hood. "Looking forward to the trial today?" she asked. Her voice was a friendly neutral at odds with her expression.
Djak considered that. He wasn't too familiar with Rattataki, but expressions were usually universal across humanoid species. Deciding that she wanted to at least seem friendly, he nodded and smiled. "I am," he said. "Hungry, too! I think I saw you working out last night as well, you must be starving. Heading to breakfast? I don't know what this trial will be, but I reckon we should load up on carbs."
As he spoke, he let just a bit of his pheremones go, just enough to create a very slight amount of arousal in most female humanoid mammals. He didn't want to be overt, but he was certainly curious to see if the Dark Side would protect her.
There was a slight pause before she responded where her eyes darted down then back up. "Yes, I was on my way to breakfast. Skipping energy on a day where you don't know what will happen? That's just asking for trouble." With a slight smirk, she lowered her hood and started again towards the mess. "I'm Resoh, by the way."
He turned and walked with her, keeping pace easily as they were almost the same height. "Resoh, I'm Djak. A pleasure, I'm sure." He wore his own hood down, being just a little proud of his thick blue--black hair and sculpted jawline. The silver in his ears gleamed. He wasn't sure how long the simple ornaments would last in the hardscrabble world of the Sith. Would they be targeted by an attacker in a fight? Djak wondered if he should take them out, then wondered if it would be seen as an act of weakness to remove them now.
"So, your piercings," he said as their boots scuffed softly. "What do they mean? Is there some sort of symbolism? Do they mean your tribe, your personal journey?"
"I'm sure at some point they were symbolic, back when Rattataki were almost wiped out by our own planet." She tapped her nostril piercing. "Most will have at least this one, though. I don't know the reason behind it for others. I got mine for practice, determining how long it would take to heal and how well it healed." Resoh glanced at him as they entered the mess. "What about yours?"
"They mean nothing more than that the piercing studio on Cor Iblis accepts bribes to pierce drunks," Djak laughed softly at the memory. "I walked in, asked, 'Hey, do you pierce drunks?', and the shop owner shook his head. I shouted, 'Good, cause I'm not,' and woke up the next day missing several hundred credits with these." He pulled his hair back over his ears to show them off a little better, then picked up a tray and started scooping food onto his plate. "I got a lot of compliments from them at work, though, so I kept them. Thought about trading in the hoops for studs--have you seen the chrome diopsides coming out of Jakku?"
Resoh grabbed her own tray. "I can't say I have. I prefer keeping my piercings simple. Tattoos, however..." Her voice trailed off as she blocked another acolyte from grabbing a portion of stew. "There are far more things you can do with tattoos than piercings."
She led him towards an empty table. Sliding into an empty seat, Djak considered. "I hear that they apply tattoos with beetles here," he said. "A tattoo artist I was friends with told me that the venom stings like a bitch, and permenantly marks the skin. Technically not a tattoo, because it's not ink being pushed under the skin... more like a burn scar. Probably not true though."
Shrugging, she started on the fruit. "I wouldn't be surprised if the beetle rumor is true. There are more ways of tattooing than you think."
He began to eat, considering. "I mean... this is kind of cool. I grew up hearing all kinds of weird stories about the Sith and what they--what we--can do. I guess now we're going behind the curtain to see what's true and what's not."
"Weird stories?" Resoh looked intrigued. "And what would you consider weird?"
He grinned. "I heard about one Sith that could body-jump. Grab hold of someone, and switch his mind with that of his victim. That one sure would be useful... downright immortal, as long as you were careful. Then there was one story about a Sith who could cause earthquakes. Actually move the tetonic plates. Then there's the really weird stuff... the ones who turn invisible, the ones who can see the future, the ones who can shatter anything by poking it."
"More interesting than weird, I would say. Something to look forward to with a stronger grasp on the Force." There was a lull in the conversation as both concentrated on the meal. "So what were you practicing last night?" she asked suddenly. "You said earlier that you noticed I was working out as well."
Djak grinned. "Just the basics. Darth Chotar just started me on the basics of Makashi yesterday, but I wanted to get them hammered in. Basics are pretty much universal, and everything else we'll learn wlll come back to the basics, so I reckon if there's one thing I should practice more than anything else it's the first day's lesson." He cocked an eyebrow "What about you? Any interesting bits I can look forward to?"
She smirked. "Nothing too different from what we all learned last night. Repetition is key to creating muscle memory, after all." Her head cocked to the side as if in thought. "Though I will warn you to watch your step if we are ever against one another." With a few bites remaining on her tray, she stood from the table. "Have fun until the trial begins, Djak."
The big Zeltron nodded, his mouth being too full of food to respond to that last. He waved as she walked away, and thought with some little salt that the acolyte robes really needed a bit of work to properly flatter their wearers. Cloaks were such impolite things.
He cleaned his plate, and went back for seconds, heaping his plate. His body needed a great deal of fuel to be effective without losing the mass he'd cultivated so carefully, and he suspected that there would be many chances to starve in his future. This wouldn't be one of them. The rest of the acolytes came and went while he continued to stuff his face, but it wasn't till he'd consumed roughly three times a human's ration that he felt satisfied and dumped his tray at last. He was excited for the coming trial, and felt as ready as he could be.
